


Things that are beautiful and transient

by dance4thedead



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Death, Dementia, Free Verse, Haiku, Multi, Poetry, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24414361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance4thedead/pseuds/dance4thedead
Summary: Three poems about the World War Threesome.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter, James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Things that are beautiful and transient

**Author's Note:**

> For the BTB square "Negativity".
> 
> Title from [Everywhere at the end of time](https://thecaretaker.bandcamp.com/album/everywhere-at-the-end-of-time) by The Caretaker.

  
  


* * *

I.

* * *

  
Listen.  
  
I have a story. About you  
which,  
  
I've clung on to.  
  
Something important,  
relayed to me  
  
over deep-bellied laughter,  
over sun-smell and cigarette smoke,  
fraying playing cards  
thwipping on a hardwood table  
  
...or so I believe?  
  
He rocks back on a stool that creaks,  
legs tittering uneven  
on a sloped foundation.  
  
I'm explaining. I'm explaining...  
  
He's cursing his hands,  
what he's done with them,  
chuckling in the face of his  
losing streak  
his foul mouth running  
thusly:  
  
...ten blocks from home.  
six long, four short,  
Well out the way, but worth it  
'cause mister mister...  
  
Mister shop owner would  
brown bag up for us  
the lushest peaches  
ya see  
  
Ma was canning so we  
bought pounds of it.  
  
He charged us pennies only.  
We had pennies only.  
  
He pauses to gulp down lemon-ade(?) from a tin,  
hums a crooked thumb 'cross his jaw,  
going on with:  
  
...block four or so the bag breaks  
and the punk starts  
shoving them into my arms,  
into the drape of my shirt.  
  
I tell him:  
"It's not gonna work."  
"There are too many."  
"We've got too far to go."  
"I've gotta put some down."  
  
He tries to carry more than he can  
  
and they  
fall  
  
plunking into street mud.  
  
He chokes up and says  
he doesn't want to  
disappoint my mom.  
  
So we sit on the curbside  
with an oversized split brown bag  
picking out the best of the bunch  
holding 'em close to our chests.  
  
A Becca peach.  
Ma's peach.  
Steve  
Bucky  
peaches.  
  
He glances to his vacant left, then, I recall.  
  
Block eight  
the usual jackasses come to give us trouble.  
  
And the peaches...  
some they rob me of,  
some I choose to let go of,  
and which ones,  
and in what order.  
A cruel calculation done  
so that I might make it back with him.  
  
I grab his hand  
and I start to run.  
  
"He hated me that day."  
He confides  
as he dispassionately folds.  
  
I'm sorry,  
that wasn't the part I wanted.  
  
I meant to tell you  
of later that same night  
in that inn in France  
where we sat around  
on crates and mismatched furniture  
playing poker using  
what's his name  
what's his name?  
Someone's pack of cards.  
And sugar cubes and gum sticks and caramels and ration keys  
  
Because after,  
we met you in a bedroom,  
the downstairs clamor trickling in  
all laughter, fortune, and smoke  
through the thin walls and thinner floorboards  
and we  
  
decided  
something  
important.  
  
It's escaping me.  
  
I'm trying to explain...  
I'm trying to explain...  
  
This is a story about you.

  


* * *

II.

* * *

  
She covers for me  
When the mask slips out of place  
Showing tremors and too quick breaths  
The nights,  
The nights when the thought of following him  
Into the next fight  
Into the next fight that ends with us  
Outflanked and captured  
Laid bare on tables  
Like Azzano  
Scares the ever-loving fuck out of me.  
But even more so  
That I never can't.  
  


* * *

III.

* * *

  
We ran a staggered  
race course, taking turns loving,  
care-giving, mourning.  
  
  
  



End file.
